The Red Day for Izaya Orihara
by BiohazardGantai
Summary: When Izaya manages to push Namie over the edge,  she gets back at him in a way that he will surely remember. I'm not really good at these summaries... Starts out slow.


**Hello, hi! This is probably my first story, even though I have a short drabble claimed as my first, but this is a story! Not a drabble. Please read and review! I accept criticism!**

**I don't own Durarara!/DRRR! or any of its characters... Please enjoy!  
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**The Red Day for Izaya Orihara**

**Chapter 1: Frustration Complies**

Ikebukuro, the large bustling city in Tokyo. This particular city had always been housing some odd characters, such as otakus, gangs, and some that were just plain odd. Some were dangerous, and some were odd but normal.

There was one dangerous individual, he was actually somewhat normal besides the fact that he loved observing the humans in Ikebukuro. His name was Izaya Orihara, a sneaky and clever man. A 23 year old that pretty much had Ikebukuro in his grasp to control. He spent most of his time observing the city and also avoiding his worst enemy that he developed from his time in high school. It was his usual routine, but today was going to have a slight change in the routine. Usually, he was always eagerly hoping for something different to happen in his schedule. But this change, this slight flaw in his plans was going to haunt him. Greatly.

Izaya stood atop the rooftop of his apartment complex. He was watching over the people, he didn't have anything really important to do as of now and there was no work for him. Nothing had changed. The people were just enjoying their lives as usual. He was bored, bored up until the point where he actually considered burning his own board game again. He sighed, shoving his hand into his jacket pocket. He grazed past his flick blade, and grabbed onto his phone. He ceased his action right there as he leaned onto the railing that was put onto the edge of the apartment building. _What's the point to check the chatroom? _he thought, releasing his grip on his phone. _It's been two days. After tonight, it'll be three days of nothing really happening in Ikebukuro. _he continued thinking, slowly pulling his hand out of his warm pocket. _Hmmm, I wonder what Namie's doing…_

Turning on his heels, he made his way to the rooftop door, and down to his apartment room. Namie was sitting on the couch, reading a very large, thick book. Silence was the only thing present in the room, except for the flipping of pages by the dark haired woman. Izaya shrugged it off, his boredom was the main problem here. Namie focused her full attention on this. Something wasn't right. The man was usually talking, singing, walking around the room, or at least doing something other than just sitting there whenever she saw him. It was only about 3 minutes until Namie finally broke the silent atmosphere.

"Something wrong?" she kept her face aiming at the book, her eyes trailed toward his desk.

"Other than being bored, Namie… I should go burn my game again, just so I could at least do something that's of interest…" he spun himself slowly in the swivel chair, trying to at least get a spark of an idea of what to do.

"Is that so?" her question came out more as a statement than a question. "Yep." he drawled out.

"So, Izaya…"

"Yep?" his eyes somewhat widened in curiosity, feeling as if Namie had something interesting that she wanted him to do.

"Why're you home late?"

That shattered the small amount of curiosity that his brain gathered. Izaya leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the desk. "I don't really know. Why do you always ask for a reason although I only missed your curfew by 5 minutes?"

Izaya had been put on a curfew only for this week because lately he was coming home around eleven or twelve. He would say that he was hungry, dragging Namie out of her bed and force her to cook something. She often threatened him, clearly stating that she was going to slip something into his food, but he always retorted with something that concerned her life or her brother's life. She would always end up muttering something about him under her breath, and cooking for him anyways.

"Izaya, you know I hate cooking late." she said, her nose still buried in her book. "And I'm already tired as it is."

That's when an idea sparked in his mind. It was the perfect thing that would cure him of his boredom!

If only Namie would have put down her book to see the smirk that curved at Izaya's lips. She heard the chair that he was sitting in squeak, the hinges of the wheels. Sending him a quick glance, she saw him skip into the kitchen.

"Izaya," she said, raising her head away from the book. The raven haired male halted at the doorframe, "what're you doing?" She was quite curious of what he could be doing.

He turned around, face cleared of any signs giving away at his plan, "You're gonna cook dinner, right?" he asked.

Her curiosity deteriorated at the question, "I'm not your housewife, Izaya." Namie said as she went back to reading.

That was the exact answer that Izaya wanted to hear. He once again turned on his heels and the devious, trademark smirk once again planted on his face. "Then I'll be making dinner tonight then," he said, taking a few steps further leading into the kitchen.

With those few words, Namie's train of thought and focus stopped as if she had heard news about her brother dying. She knew the raven far too well. She could only imagine what he would do to their meal if he were to be in charge of preparation for it. He could put all sorts of condiments and items in there to see how she would react. She was a human after all, and he loved observing humans. She also thought about what she did last week, she managed to actually piss of Izaya, so she thought about his motive to cook their dinner tonight. She thought of a variety of different ingredients he could easily put into their food. Poison, heavy doses of medication, something even worse than the other two. She couldn't trust him in charge, the man was always crafty and sneaky about his things. Meaning he could hide whatever he was doing from Namie.

She stopped her thoughts in order to save time, letting him out of her sight for just a mere minute could mean bad outcomes. He could easily transfer something into one another in a short moment. She abruptly shut the book, and stood up. "I-Izaya," she said shakily, turning toward the kitchen, "I'll do the cooking." she finished, placing a hand on her chest.

Izaya's popped his head out from the side of the door, a devious grin shown on his face, "No. You've been work-"

"Izaya, just let-"

"Like you said, you're not my ho-"

Frustration was the only emotion cycling through her mind at this point. She threw the book, swiftly going past his head and into the sink. Little did she know, Izaya had the faucet on, and the water was coming out with a heavy flowing pressure added to the fast speed, making the book completely soaked within seconds. "UGH! IZAYA WHY DO YOU HAVE IT ON FULL BLAST? WHY DO YOU WANT TO COOK?" Namie yelled, pushing him lightly out of the kitchen to stumble a few steps in the living room. A small giggle came from him, "So are you my housewife?" he asked over his shoulder with a sly grin.

"No, I'm no-" she stopped, fearing that he would go back to his past action.

"Hmm, 'No'~? You're not my what?" he asked as his grin widened. He put out his ear just to taunt her.

She gritted her teeth, turned around, and went back into the kitchen. "I just cook for you!"

"Hmm~, whatever you say, my lovely housewife~" he sang, sitting back in the chair to his desk. Small, short giggles came from the man. He resumed spinning himself while laughing and shouting about how much he loved Namie's reaction. She was beginning to think that he had _actually_ lost it.

Namie stood there at the sink, drying, or trying to at least get some portion of the water out of the book pages until it was damp. She knew the book wasn't going to make it. It was in horrible condition in her opinion. However, she did think about the contents of the book for a minute even though she had already made up her mind about what to do with it. The page colors would become moreover of a shade of yellow. The text would fade away, or at least turn toward a light or dark shade of blue. Before, she didn't mind reading pages in a different color ratio, but with its pages curling up would make it difficult to read. However, she accepted her book's condition, and threw it in the trash.

This wasn't the first time Izaya tortured her like this. He would at times sabotage her food, or how her day went by, but this was starting to get on her nerves. This was growing into a bad conflict. Just yesterday, Izaya managed to sneak hot sauce into her breakfast omelet, the outcome wasn't really good… Well, she pretty much just stayed away from him for the rest of the day. But three agitations in a row was beginning to push her off the edge. She wanted to know just how to get back at him. She was desperate for it. Almost everything she tried when he would mess with her seemed to fail. It didn't matter what it was she did to get back at him, he would always shrug it off as if it were nothing! She didn't know what to do at this point to get back at him.

She thought about many horrendous ways she could try, but to her, it always ended up with Izaya either enjoying it or not even caring about it. It wasn't until she looked at her nails and at her recent birthday present from Izaya where she finally realized how exactly she was going to get back at him. A small sadistic smile formed upon her lips as she started cooking his and her meal.

"Oh, Izaya," she said, mind growing darker as she thought about her plan, "you're in for a surprise of your li-AHH!" she continued until Izaya threw a chess piece from his board game past her head.

"Heh~, my housewife's giving me a surprise~? But it's not even my birthday though, oh well~" he sang, flipping another chess piece over to the dark haired woman.

Namie blushed furiously at her squeak of fear as she heard Izaya's laughter fading into the hallway.

_I swear I'm going to kill this man… He's going to so regret the torture he's put on me… she thought, pretty much stabbing the cutting board instead of the meat that she was using to make dinner._

**Sorry for the cliffhanger, people... If I have any of my information wrong, please tell me. I've only been watching and reading Durarara a little bit (about 6 episodes)... Please review if you want! I accept constructive critism... Thank you for reading, even if you skipped over some of it!**_  
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